


Heavy Metal Lover

by RobinsGirlWonder



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-17
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-18 21:28:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/565487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinsGirlWonder/pseuds/RobinsGirlWonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set late season 2, August falls off the wagon, hard, as Neal returns and his actions in Portland prompt Emma to cut him out completely. But, she’s the only one who can bring him back. Can she really handle the August at the bottom of the bottle, though? The only one who really knows him there is… him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Whiskey Mouth

**Author's Note:**

> So, okay, originally, I was all “Hey! Lemme write some dirty stuff!” And then people threw requests at me, I checked out the SwanBooth kink!Meme and saw a few requests that all sort of melded into this. The fic is aptly titled after Lady Gaga’s song off of Born This Way, as that song is about some of the dirtiest biker sex I could possibly think of. LOL. So, chapter one, requested by my wife and a different anon, (thank you, Anon!), is Whiskey Mouth, using the prompt of “Angsty sex after Emma finds out what August did in “Tallahassee.”” So, hope you enjoy! Sneak peek of chapter two? One word, Booth Babes. Motorcycle. God, don’t ever let August off the bandwagon in my head, it’s scary. He really doesn't handle it well. It works out in the end, thankfully, but daaaamn. Also, I was totally listening to What Do I Have To Do? by Stabbing Westward. SO apt.
> 
> Complimentary Author’s Care Package: Please enjoy your free towel, bag of ice to cool off, and if necessary, cold showers.

_“_ _When I was 17, I hooked up with some guy, Neal Cassady, who was flashy and a con artist and a bad boy but I thought I loved him, and he was Henry's father - and then he told me about these watches that he'd stolen so I offered to get them so he could fence them and before I knew it, I was cuffed and hauled into a police cruiser because he set me up .”_

_“Emma, why are you telling me all of this –“_

_“Only he didn't set me up. **You**  set me up.  **You knew**  who I was? You  **found**  me? You **told** Neal to leave me. You **told him** to leave me and he was Henry’s **father** and I spent 11 months in prison! Don’t you dare lie to me, not after **everything** I just went through to help you get your damn body back! Did you **tell Neal to leave me?** ”_

_“I didn’t know, Emma – “_

_“You showed up in Storybrooke, and I thought it was **so weird**  when you told me you were Pinocchio, because you knew too much and when I  **finally**  believed, when I thought you were  **dead** , all I kept telling myself, and my  **mother**  is that I should've listened to you. I cried myself to sleep almost every night because I hadn't trusted you when you needed it and you were dead and  **you knew who I was and you left me**! To go to  **Phuket!”**_

_“Emma, I wanted to come back, I just… I got tangled up.”_

_“You got tangled up. And I had to give up my son.”_

_“I did what I had to, because **you** needed to be on a better path! Emma, you would’ve been caught, you would’ve lost Henry anyway – “_

_“Do **not** make this seem like you did me a fucking **favor,** like you **actually cared.** You were worrying about **yourself.** Like you always do – **no!** Just shut up, I don’t want to hear you lie anymore!”_

_“I’m not lying, Emma, I wouldn’t, not to you – “_

_“Of **course** you are. You’re **Pinocchio.** It’s your fucking **story.** ”_

His fucking story.

Bleary blue eyes closed as he knocked back yet another shot of some bottom shelf whiskey, the burn travelling down his throat to the warm pit of his stomach beneath the black sweatshirt he wore. His senses dulled, he heard the glass hit the bar counter with a resounding clack. He leaned forward, glancing back at his reflection. The bar’s mirror, clouded though it was, gave August W. Booth a good look at himself. His scruff had turned into almost a beard even before he’d made it to the seedy, dark bar just on the outskirts of Storybrooke. While it wasn‘t over the town lines, it was far enough. Pinocchio could disappear in a place like that bar. For maybe an hour or two.

 For the last four days, August’s focus had been solely on the next drink. Emma’s words, her tears, her rage, her feelings of betrayal, they’d filled every waking moment, every dreaming moment as his world had come crashing down on him. After almost two years trying to make up for his mistakes, he’d failed. Because of the truth. She couldn’t forgive him. He’d known that… deep down.

 For the first couple of days, he’d been drinking at Granny’s. He’d enlisted Ruby’s reluctant assistance, but he’d managed to sneak a few bottles of something mind-numbingly strong up to his room. But, when Henry had made the mistake of looking for him one morning, August knew he’d have to leave. He might’ve been in a state of drunken depression, but he didn’t want Henry to see that.

 Which had led him to the nameless, faceless hole-in-the-wall that had provided him the solitude he’d craved. It wasn’t Phuket, but it was a start.

August turned his attention to his empty glass, sighing heavily. Reaching up, he scrubbed his face with his hand, unpleasantly surprised to find that he still had far too many of his senses intact after a four day bender. It had been so much easier before to let the booze lull him into a sense of calm, to let him forget. That no longer seemed to be the case. He idly scratched at the inside of his right elbow, where track marks had all but faded. He hadn't even _touched_ junk since Phuket, but maybe it was time to pick it back up. It made the time pass so easily... Idly, August cursed the Blue Fairy under his breath, including the fairy dust she’d used to save him. Of course it had just run the booze through his body faster.

August didn’t deserve saving. He’d done what he’d set out to do, right? He’d gone to a world without magic. Without his father. He’d gotten the Savior back on a path that didn’t involve crime and a con artist. Should’ve been enough.

August tapped at the bar counter with the glass, hoping the bartender would realize he wanted another double shot. Why not? He didn’t have anything left to lose. At this point, his father would be better off without him. And Emma _hated_ him. That hurt more than he could’ve possibly predicted. When he’d put her life on that course, he hardly knew her. He’d been thinking of the quick and dirty solution, and there was no way he could’ve known she was knocked up.

But, that didn’t change that August knew exactly why he drank. Every. Single. Time.

He saw her face.

Used to be with those black-rimmed glasses.

Now, the face he saw every time he closed his eyes was strained with tears and a look of hurt he would’ve done anything to take away. _It's your fucking story._

“Excuse me.” August managed to mutter, sounding more put together by far than how he felt. “I need another over here.”

“No.” The voice behind him made his stomach turn, and he swallowed, setting the glass back down. “You don’t, August.”

He tried to ignore the way her voice set every single nerve of his on fire, like it always had. Even before they’d officially met, her face had haunted him. He’d dreamt about her, he’d thought about her, and knowing he’d gotten so close – _too_ close – that he’d fallen so completely head over heels and –

“ _Sheriff_.” He tersely greeted, his poker face surprisingly good considering he was three sheets to the wind. He smirked, but there was no normal mirth in his eyes. He could tell. He was too busy staring at them in the mirror so he couldn’t let his gaze waver to the blonde he could practically smell behind him. Fuck, why did she always have to smell so good? She wasn’t even a foot from him. “What can I do for you?” He asked, his voice rough and hard. He scoffed, holding his empty glass up to stop her from replying. “Oh, I’m sorry, I believe you told me never to speak to you again, seeing as how I’m an unrepentant liar. I suppose we’ll have to end this conversation now.”

August knew that he shouldn’t have been pushing her away. He should’ve been elated she was there. Even if it was just to kick him out, remind him how much she never wanted to see his face again.

To his surprise, her warm body slid onto the bar stool beside him, and she pulled off her gloves, setting them on the counter in front of them both. “You’re drunk.”

“I prefer the term ‘repenting.’” August replied wryly as he reached forward, snitching a peanut from the bowl in front of him, popping it into his mouth.

Emma sighed beside him, a sound that sent a shiver up his spine no matter how much he tried to ignore it. He replaced the sensation of longing and arousal with anger, and he found himself able to focus on what she was saying. “…Geppetto has been looking for you. You get it? Your family misses you.”

“No.” August laughed a little, an angry laugh with an even angrier, mirthless smile following as he turned to look at her. “Geppetto misses the seven-year-old whose worst fuck ups included gambling and tying up a cricket in a cuckoo clock. He does _not_ miss me. So, just…” August’s drunken brain started to stall, so he shook his head and turned his attention back to the bartender, motioning for another drink. “Just don’t bother, Emma. Don’t bother playing the family card. Why don’t you just go home and enjoy the one you have?” When she didn’t move, August let another barb fly. At this point, he was pretty set on burning the whole thing down. What was one more match? “You have Neal. You have Henry. You have your parents. So now you can just go on hating me forever, and I will just sit here…” He tapped his glass again as the bartender walked by with the bottle of whiskey. “With my Jack.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Emma waved off the bartender, reaching over to grab August’s arm. “You’re cut off – “

Before he’d even realized what he’d done, he’d shrugged her off violently, hearing his leather jacket on the other barstool beside him fall to the floor in the fray. “You made it very clear that I can go to a hell in a hand-basket. So if I want to do that via alcohol poisoning, that’s my prerogative.” For a man so adept at telling stories, sometimes, it was times like this that stunned August. He was half-man, half-booze right now, and he was _still_ a wordsmith. “Go nurture _Neal_. Go make him turn over a new leaf already.” August’s anger radiated through everything, but it still didn’t seem to be enough to push her away. Wasn’t she someone who didn’t get attached? Why the _hell_ was she here interrupting his quiet self-destruction?

“Why do you keep mentioning him? Are you trying to make me hate you?”

“Is it working?” He fired back, stealing another glance her way. Bad idea. The confusion on her face tore his heart right up.

Emma’s expression hardened. That damned determination that he loved so, _so_ much. “No.”

Dammit, no. No, he was _not_ a cause worth saving. Why wouldn’t she stop? “Okay, then I’ll make it easier.” He stood, spinning around the bar stool in a move that surprised even him, before he hastily grabbed his jacket and swung it around his shoulders. His head swam, but he managed to stomp it down. He’d done worse with more booze in his system, and given that apparently fairy magic made him only half as susceptible to alcohol right now – probably a side effect that would fade – he was going to take care of it himself. “Good night, Sheriff.”

“August!” She barked behind him, but he was already making his way to the door. He walked out into the frigid night air, immediately grateful for the weather. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he fished his keys out, then began a slow walk back to his bike.  “August, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Emma’s voice came up behind him so quickly, he barely had time to turn to face her. Which, he did, although he looked casual and as cool as a cucumber.

“I’m going to go for a drive.”

“The _hell_ you are.” Emma’s hand went for the keys, and August reached out, grabbing her slender wrist without even thinking. “You’re drunk off your ass. I’d be an absolute fool to let you drive.” Her tone was even. August could tell she was trying to play nice with him. She didn’t have a clue what he was like when he drank. He’d never let her in that far.

“I’m not your responsibility.” He managed, pulling her wrist up until he was staring into her eyes. “Believe me, if I disappear, it’s better for everyone.”

“What?” Emma twisted her wrist out of his grasp, only to pivot around him, cutting him off from his bike. “Bullshit. Get back inside, we’ll get you a place to sleep in back. Just because you don’t care about yourself means I can’t - ”

In a flash, he let his emotional state get the best of him. Only a few feet from the brick wall of the bar, August grabbed Emma by the shoulders, pushing her against the harsh brick, pinning her body with his. “ _Emma._ ” He breathed, trying to ignore the way their heartbeats thudded against each other. “Just... let me go.”

In the darkness, it was almost as if the bar had been forgotten. To be fair, he had been the last patron of the night. There was nothing to stop him from being painfully reminded of how much he didn’t want to leave her. He’d been trying to hate her, but he couldn’t. _Never_. Worse, he _loved_ her. It ached, it burned, it couldn’t be reasoned with, it couldn’t be dulled with liquor. With the smell of whiskey on his breath, he must have looked a mess. And yet, she was trying to get him to go home.

“August…” Emma swallowed, her breath dancing along his scruffy jaw in a way that made his eyes flutter closed. His stomach flipped, he could feel his body reacting to being closer to her than he’d been in a _long time_ , and it only made him more guilty, more angry. “I’m just trying to help.”

“ _Why?_ ” He whispered, setting those bright blue eyes on her, scanning her face for _something, anything_. He tensed as he felt her hips roll, a reaction to being pressed against the wall, he was sure, but that was _not_ what his body was screaming at him. He had _no_ will power, especially like this.

“August, please, you just need to sleep it off, we’ll talk in the morning.” Emma’s voice, her breath, the way her hair brushed against his cheek, it was as inviting and as intoxicating as the whiskey he’d been plying himself with. No, it was stronger. It was the _ultimate_ high for the boy who knew temptation all too well.

“I can’t do that.” His voice wavered just slightly. Just enough. He was practically radiating how much he needed her. He hadn’t realized how much it scared him to be without her until she was gone, and he’d been left alone and wooden in Storybrooke, trying to figure his jumbled sense of shame and conflicting emotions out. And when she came back in the end he lost her anyway.

“I know we fought, but…” Emma’s voice shook as well, and August’s heart twisted again. Did she not have a _clue_ what she did to him? “This isn’t a reason to throw your life away.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” August laughed softly, reaching a hand up to run his fingers along her cheek. Oh, this was a bad idea. He knew he was not gonna be able to stop now. _But he didn’t care._ “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“August, I think you should let me go – “ Emma stopped cold as he pressed her closer, further against the wall.

“You should hate me.” He muttered. “You should. If you don’t, you’re crazy. Because I have been thinking about you since I had to get that asshole away from you, and I will _never_ regret doing that. I regret what happened after, but Emma, he doesn’t _deserve_ you.”

August swallowed, shock blearily reflecting on his features as he felt Emma’s hands on his waist. What was she…?  “And you think you do?” It wasn’t a come on. She sounded annoyed at the question, and that suspicion was confirmed when she tried to push him off of her.

August didn’t let her go from the cage that was his arms on either side of her body, but, the movement cleared his head, for just a moment. “Are you kidding me? Of _course_ not. But, I’m not gonna just sit here while you go back to him.”

Emma didn’t move from the wall at first. Then, she opened her mouth. “You lied.” Nope. Of course she couldn’t just let it end there.

“To _protect_ you.” He pled, trying to make her see reason. Drunken reason, but reason nonetheless. “And I _never_ lied to you when I got to Storybrooke. I knew the moment I saw you, there was no way I could get you out of my head. I tried to erase you for _ten years_ , and now you want me to just pick up the pieces because of the mistakes I made a decade ago while he puts his paws all over you?” The more he spoke, the more the anger he’d been hiding under all the guilt was bubbling to the surface. It felt _good_ to unleash it. He wanted her to know how badly she’d hurt him. Not that she hadn’t had good reason, but he wanted her to know. He _needed_ her to know. “I can’t _think_ when I’m around you. I’m the guy with a million stories and a million quips, but they’re all useless if you can’t see what’s right in front of you. You’re not the only one who suffered, Emma! And your life isn’t the only tragic story! I will be _damned_ if I let that asshole touch you again.” _Because you’re mine_ , he finished silently, his hands pressing so hard against the brick they stung.

Emma was silent, but her expression had changed, softened, but had something else to it. August’s control was fading, he could feel it in his bones, in the way his breathing had hitched. He couldn’t afford to stay there with a moment longer, or he would do something they’d both regret. He wasn’t good enough for her. He would break her, like a kid with a toy they couldn’t care for. “You should let me go –“

He couldn’t hear her finish that sentence. August’s lips crashed against hers brutally, and he pressed her tightly to the wall behind the bar. Her hands scrambled for purchase, he could feel her trying to push her away at first, but he just couldn’t afford to let her go. Just this once. There was _one_ thing in the world he couldn't live without. That was her. She could deck him, which was fine, but _just. This. Once._ Couldn’t he do something selfish and _not_ fuck up her life?

Emma kissed him back.

A completely guttural, primal growl escaped his lips as he realized she was meeting his suffocating, drowning kiss with one of her own, and he slid his hands off of the brick wall. One hand moved to cup her cheek, as if he couldn’t possibly ever touch her as close as he wanted to, while his other hand slipped around her waist, holding her tight.

He was back in Phuket all over again. The scent of booze and women permeated everything, and he didn’t care. It was Emma, he wasn’t good enough for her, he would break her, he was too damaged for her, but he couldn’t stop himself. She was the only person he wanted to be _good_ for. Not obedient, like for his father, no, he wanted to be a _hero_ , the guardian angel. But, she was also only drug he’d ever wanted, the only woman who’d haunted his dreams for ten years from fleeting moments that had blossomed into a guilty conscience all its own. He’d gotten a hit of her, and he wasn’t about to stop now.

August wasn’t too good at telling himself no.

His mind made up in the most primal, stupid, blatant way, August reached down, tugging open her red leather jacket. His hand ran along her side, dragging her tank top up as he did so, while his lips continued to bruise hers. The rational part of his brain that told him to stop had completely shut up, especially the moment his fingers touched skin, and he felt her shiver beneath him. He felt her fingers tugging at his jacket, and suddenly, it was like all hell broke loose. His jacket was tugged right off his shoulders, and he let it go, tossing it aside as he broke for air, his teeth scraping down her jaw. He was supposed to protect her, but he didn't want to protect her. He wanted to _have_ her.

"August - " His name on her lips sounded like heaven. He pulled her shirt up further, hearing the hitch of her breath as she protested. She tried to tug his hand away, and he growled, grabbing her wrist and pinning it to the wall.

" _No._ " He hissed, letting all of that anger and guilt fuel his desire. She kept squirming against him, it was making it difficult to focus. His mouth found the pulse of her neck and he suckled, using that arm around her waist to keep her close, feeling her writhe against him. The moan that came from her lips made his groin ache for attention, and it was enough of a signal that she wanted this that he wasn't going to stop.

"August, please..." Emma's voice had taken on a heavy, breathy tone, one he'd never heard before, and he pulled his lips away, sure he'd left a dark welt on her neck as he trailed kisses back up her jaw.

"Please what, Emma?" He breathed into her ear, his hips rocking against hers so she could feel his arousal. He was drunk, but he wasn't _that_ drunk, and to top it off, she kept giving signals that this was exactly what she wanted but didn't know how to ask for. "Please let you go? Just let you walk away from me and live your cookie-cutter life with the guy who lies to you more than the kid who made pathological lying stylish?" His hand tugged her wrist higher, forcing her to stand straighter as he kept growling against her ear. He could feel the shivers and shudders as he spoke. "Or maybe it's 'Please, August, fuck me.' Because that's what I want. For once, _I_ am going to do what I want with you, because you've been in charge of me enough." To be fair, he'd played it ridiculously slow with her for the last two years. He wanted to think it was because he was sober and focused at first, but he knew better.  With the whiskey on his breath, he knew exactly why he'd been slower than molasses with her. He loved her fire, he loved the spunk, but now? Now was the time for her to let him have control.

His hand snaked into her shirt, sliding up against the flat surface of her stomach up to cup her breast through her bra. God, she felt good. Better than he could have imagined. August tried to block everything out but the present, the fact that he was finally touching her. He could smell her, his lips were caressing her skin as he kept kissing her jaw. "You really want me to stop, Emma?" August knew he had to ask. He needed to know, even as his hand was trailing back down her stomach to unbutton her jeans in a swift, easy movement. "Tell me now, because if you don't stop me, I _will_ keep going, because I need you and I am going to make you _mine_."

August forced himself to pull back just enough that he could see her face. His hand slipped beneath her jeans, pausing just where he desperately wanted to be. His fingers were practically aching to touch the warm pulse beneath the panties, but he was watching her for her reaction. "Am I stopping, Emma?"

Emma's fingers suddenly scraped against his biceps, and August groaned. If there had been a wall holding him back, it was gone now. His fingers dipped beneath the soft material of her panties, and if he'd needed any confirmation that she wanted him,  at all, he had it. She was wet, velvety and warm, and the moans that escaped her lips as his fingers began to probe were amazing.  Those very talented fingers of his found her clit in no time, and he began to massage it quickly and firmly. This wasn't gentle lovemaking, this was rough, down and dirty, he wanted to hear her lose control right in his arms, and he needed it as fast as possible.

August held her tighter against him as her voice hitched, her hips bucked against him and she shot him a look that was part confusion and part unbridled lust. His fingers ceased their massaging so he could move his fingers lower. He slipped his index and middle finger deep inside of her, groaning against her ear. Fuck. She was _tight_. August ignored the way her fingers clawed at his wrist until she started to tug at his shirt, pulling it higher. As his fingers thrust inside of her, he pulled back long enough to release her from his grip so he could grab her hands that were too curious and pin them back against the wall.

"I want to hear you, Emma..." August growled as his actions wound up sliding her jeans down her hips; her continued squirming only made  her more restrained by the denim she wore. Her head thrashed as his fingers kept moving, thrusting into her with purpose and speed. Those blue eyes of his watched her hungrily, taking in every single inch of her. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair spilling over her shoulders, and her eyes were shut tightly as she moaned. If he'd even been close to sober, he would never have done this to her outdoors, even if the only person who would hear them was the bartender. He wasn't thinking about that now. The only thoughts on his mind were of how delicious and perfect she sounded as she moaned, the way her muscles tightened around his fingers as she grew closer... she was everything he needed or could have wanted. "Come on, Emma..." He found himself coaxing her, his voice a combination of need, dominance, and lust.

Emma couldn't hold back. He could feel her lose control, and it was breathtaking. A harsh, ragged moan broke though and she shuddered all over, her body clenching around his fingers as she arched her back.

"That's my girl..." He groaned, even as the pressure in his jeans became almost unbearable. He wanted her to ride it out. He wanted her to know that he just _knew_ how she worked.

But, he wasn't able to keep that dark edge out of his mind. Pulling his hand free, he licked his fingers clean without thinking, then reached down to undo his belt buckle with his other hand. The moment he had the immediate pressure of the buckle out of the way, he caught her scent as he pulled his fingers free from his mouth with a pop. She tasted as intoxicating as she smelled. He wanted more.

With the only music to his ears the sound of her panting and whimpering, braced against the wall, August's drunken mind honed in on what he wanted now. Her. He wanted her scent, her taste, all of it. His fingers grabbed hold of her jeans, and in one swift move, he tugged the material down to her knees. Fuck. Boots.

Goddammit, those boots were the sexiest, most infuriating boots in the world, and she had a habit of tucking her jeans into them. Like tonight. Somehow, August wasn't even sure how, he managed to get one of her boots off and her leg out of her jeans. Once he'd done that, he found himself running his hands along her legs, wanting her full attention. Again, there was the heady scent from all that lust and the orgasm he'd already given her.

He leaned close, letting his lips trail hot kisses up the inside of her leg until he had her legs on either side of him. He knew exactly where he was going, and judging by the sounds Emma was making, she'd figured it out, too. If there had been any point in this whole booze-fueled, filthy, rough, guilt-ridden experience that she could have run him off, she was in the ideal position to kick him to the curb, or deck him.

Instead, her hips were gently rolling towards his mouth, her hands running through his hair to grip as if her sanity depended on it, wanting the attention she knew he was about to provide.

August reached up, spreading her wet lips and leaned close so he could breathe in the scent as his tongue ran along her slit. He groaned, already addicted to the taste, the scent, the feel of her. He never needed another hit if he could just have Emma again. If he never had her again, he wanted to make sure she never forgot it. His tongue quickly went to proving that for her, finding her already swollen and stimulated clit so he could flick and suckle on it all he wanted.

Oh, the noises. The squirming whimpers, the squealing little noises as she sounded like it was the most shocking experience of her life were worth every second of it. His scruff was probably going to leave rashes against her skin at this rate, but something told him she wouldn't care. At least, he wanted to think that they would be well worth it. He'd tasted plenty of women before, but there was no one he'd ever wanted to have this badly before in his life.

Emma kept tumbling his name from her lips, followed by more whines and moans mixed with a number of explicatives that didn't really make a whole lot of sense. He loved the way her hips rolled towards him, begging for more attention, only for her to try to pull away as he did exactly as her body asked. He wanted to feel how tight she was again. In a smooth motion, he slipped two of his fingers deep inside of her again as his tongue kept working.

" _August!_ " Emma gasped, apparently closer than he thought. Her body shook, and she lost control, hips spasming against his mouth as she clenched around his fingers. Another satisfied groan left August's mouth as he pulled away. Grinning like the mischievous boy he was at heart, he stood again, licking his lips as he kept her firmly with her back to the wall.

In a swift, fluid motion, he grabbed her jacket, tugging it off of her shoulders and to the floor as a small part of August's mind reminded him that he liked that jacket, and if he did what he wanted to, he would've ruined it if she'd had it on. His hands went to his jeans, unbuttoning them and pushing them down so that he could finally free himself. God, he was so hard, he couldn't even think at this point. Allowing his instinct to take over again, August grabbed Emma's leg free from her jeans and wrapped it around his waist, hoisting her up against the wall as he kissed her again. His hips rocked against her, making him moan as he felt how slick and ready she was. Emma's hands were firmly planted on his biceps, holding tightly.

Once sure she wasn't going anywhere, August reached down and guided his cock into her with ease. He had to break and rest his chin on her shoulder as a new groan rumbled through his body. Oh, god, she was so tight. Unbelievably tight, how was it possible she felt so good?   

"Emma..." Her name was the only one he ever wanted to speak again. His hand rested on her hip, holding tightly enough that he was probably going to leave bruises as he tried to keep his hips still. "Fuck, you're perfect..." He hissed as his lips trailed more burning kisses along her collarbone, up to her jaw, then back down.

And then she tightened her leg around him, forcing him a little deeper. Her hand tangled in his hair, tugging enough that he looked up at her, and August knew she had him completely. Drunk, hating himself, but ultimately more satisfied than he thought he'd ever be in his life, August knew that there would never be someone who fit him as perfectly as Emma did.

With the unspoken moment of connection between them, August stopped holding back. His hips rocked towards her, thrusting deep and hard into her. His lips found her shoulder, his teeth sank in as he groaned, allowing the darker sense of hedonism he fought every day to win out. One hand on her hip, the other in her hair, August held onto her for dear life. Her hands wandered under his shirt somehow, and he moaned as he felt her nails rake down his back hard, definitely hard enough to leave marks. Good. His brain had all but shut down, but he knew what he wanted. She was _his_ now. Even after today, she was _his_ , she would always be his, and the dark marks he left along her shoulder and neck were proof of that.

Emma's other leg struggled to get around his waist, and he pulled away from her long enough to grip her legs and hoist her up further, before slamming her back into the wall. His hips worked at a fever pace as she suddenly kissed him. It was messy, it was dirty and completely forbidden, and he didn't care. At some point, she'd stopped fighting for dominance, probably because he wasn't giving her time to breathe or think. He held onto her desperately, afraid she'd be gone again if he stopped, but he was swiftly losing control. He didn't think he could hold out much longer. So many things he wanted to do, so many parts of her he wanted to explore, and he just didn't have time.

Snaking a hand between them, he wanted - no, he _needed_ \- to feel and hear her come crashing down for him just one more time. His thumb found her clit in no time, like he'd practically memorized her body already, and he set about making her shake and shiver around him.

Emma couldn't hold back. She grabbed hold of his hair, tugging and struggling, as if she couldn't handle another orgasm, before she finally buried her face in his shoulder and came so hard August lost it as well. A few thrusts later and he shuddered, holding her tightly against him as he came so hard he saw stars.

It was dark, it was cold, it was quiet save for their ragged breathing, and August knew moments after he came down from his high that he'd never be able to forgive himself. He'd broken her. He must've, he broke _everything._

As Emma's legs weakly fell from around his waist, August pulled himself free with sated noise, his hands still on her hips, holding her up if need be. Her hands were shaking, still tangled in his hair. He couldn't look at her.

Already reeling from guilt, August slowly sank to his knees and helped her put her jeans back on, as well as the errant boot he'd taken off. He stood, taking the denim with him so he could dress her. He  buttoned her jeans in silence, grabbed his own and buttoned those back up as well. Glancing down again, he saw the red leather jacket of hers he loved so well that he'd taken off in the heat of the moment. Good thing, because given the scrapes she had on her shoulders, the jacket would've been ruined by the brick wall.

He picked up the jacket and handed it to her.

Emma stoically took it from him and slipped it over her shoulders, watching him with a completely unreadable expression.

August opened his mouth, trying to think of where to even start. "Emma, I - "

Emma let loose a backhand that could've won her Wimbledon, and August's jaw took the brunt of it. His head snapped to the side as he reeled from the blow, trying to figure out what to even say or do.

The fiery blonde bent down, grabbing for his leather jacket. Quickly, purposefully, she snatched his keys out of it and jingled them at him. Her voice brooked no argument, was lethally angry. "Have fun walking your bike back. You can have these when you're _sober._ " She hissed, then turned, making her way swiftly to her cruiser with his jacket. And his keys. Within seconds, she'd driven off, and August was left alone at the back of the bar.

So much for not fucking up her life. Again. 


	2. Blonde South

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Holy shit, Booth Babes, you guys make me all a-flustered. Seriously, I am completely flattered and do not deserve any of that praise. I swear, August and Emma write themselves, I just am lucky enough to have them as muses. They’re both so tortured and broken, they’re perfect for each other. Also, the fact that August has a substance problem in my head makes the notion of Emma as his drug just... so perfectly poetic. It actually kinda hurts, all those feels. GOD, they need to be together already. As a result, this one is like, much more lighthearted and panic-ridden. I blame Emma for all her WTF faces. Also, I apparently needed Charming family feels. Specifically, LikeFatherLikeDaughter feels. I mean, they just smacked me in the face with this chapter. Well, before the good stuff. Good stuff is after that. This freaking chapter is so long, you guys. SO LONG. Also, I was listening to Strong Chemistry by David Wilcox for the actual scene you all showed up for. :-P

  _“You did **what?!** ”_

  _“Granny cut him off after the first night, but it looked like he needed it! He was torn up, he didn’t have anyone else or any **where** else to go, so I thought I’d help him out! Look, I called you as soon as I realized he’d ditched, Emma - “_

  _“You honestly thought giving **August** more than one bottle of liquor was a **good** idea? He has **no** willpower, he’s a **jackass** , for God’s sake!”_

  _“You know what, Emma? You can be mad at me all you want because I was helping August out, but that doesn’t change the fact that that’s not **really** why you’re mad.”_

  _“Oh, really, Ruby? Please, **tell me** why I’m mad, then.”_

  _“Because you know you’re the reason he’s so torn up, and you don’t even care about him long enough to see that he was trying to apologize. Ten years is a **long** time, Emma. You can’t possibly think you were the same person then as you are now.”_

 “Sonvabitch, I look like I got punched by an eggplant.”

 Emma’s fingers gingerly touched at the myriad of dark purple bruises that trailed from her neck to her shoulder, impossible to ignore in the bedroom mirror of her room over the Sheriff’s office. The events of the day before, well... okay, to be fair, it was more like two days before, or a night and a half before, had been on Emma’s mind, and... clearly, Emma’s body. In every violet bruise, flashes of August’s mouth desperately locking onto her skin, his scruff scratching against her skin in fiery, hot scrapes, all came flooding back to her.

 “What about eggplants?” Emma’s expression reflected horror and stunned surprise as she heard her father’s voice, and she quickly shrugged on her red leather jacket, zipping it up within seconds just as she saw David come into view at the mirror.

 “Nothing.” She quickly covered as she turned to face him, pulling her hair out from getting caught in the collar of her jacket. Wasn’t the first time she’d had to hide bruises and hickeys. Just the first time she’d ever had to hide them from a parent. God, that was weird. “What’s up? I said I’d be down in a few.” Her brusque nature was comfortable, the easiest way to keep her heart from racing right up to her throat. She hadn’t finished processing what had happened with August. The last thing she wanted was to have that conversation with her father, a man who still hadn’t forgiven August and Geppetto for what they’d done. While he might have been Charming, her father had still been a King, used to running the kingdom his way. He’d had every right to be angry.

 “I know, thought I’d come check on you.” David leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest in a move Emma had caught herself doing far too often. “You’ve been distracted ever since Neal - “

 “Yeah, let’s not talk about that.” Emma breezed right past the subject of Neal. Because thinking about Neal meant thinking about why she wasn’t talking to Neal, which meant thinking about why she’d finally decided to go looking for August after Geppetto had called 6 times in two days, and that meant thinking about events at the bar. If there was one thing Emma Swan was good at it, it was making things about sixteen times more complicated than she needed to, and everything landed squarely on her shoulders. “I told you, I’ve handled it, he’s leaving.” She brushed past her father and headed down the stairs down to the main hallway.

“And I believe you, but that doesn’t change the fact that you trusted him, and he let you down.” Her father’s footsteps followed her all the way down before she finally turned to face him again. He was clearly worried, and the whole thing freaked her out. Months after finding out that Mary Margaret and David were actually Snow and Charming, also “Mom and Dad”, Emma still wasn’t used to it. She didn’t know if she ever would be. “But, you could try forgiving him - “ Oh, c’mon, _really_?

 “Really? Is that what I should do?” Emma scoffed. “Hey, here’s a thought. If I have to forgive Neal for not changing, then, how about you forgive August for being a seven-year-old doing what his father told him to?” Emma blinked, pausing. That... was not where she had expected that sentence to go.

David’s eyebrows shot up, clearly just as surprised as she was. “When did _August_ come into this?”

 Emma’s gaze immediately shifted from her father to pretty much anything beyond him. “Look, I’m just saying - “

 “What _are_ you saying, Emma?” David frowned, holding his hand up to stop her before she could change subject. “We were talking about Neal. Now you’re talking to me about how I should forgive Geppetto and Pinocchio - who you didn’t _tell_ me was August, your mother had to drag it out of you - for going behind my back as their King and their friend so you were left without your mother. Or me, for that matter.”

“Yeah, and Neal used the watches as an excuse to leave me when he realized I was falling in love with him. He was never gonna come back for me. And even if for _two_ seconds I had thought he would, he was a criminal.” Emma glowered at her father. “At least with August there were good intentions all over the damn place. You and I just spent weeks trying to figure out Neal’s game here. He hasn’t changed at _all_.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Can you say the same about August?”

 Her father’s expression softened, shifted. “Emma, I don’t think that’s the same argument - “

 “Then don’t tell me I have to forgive Neal. I _don’t_.” Emma swallowed as memories of her fight with August earlier that week completely distracted her. She’d let all that anger and raw betrayal hit August at a million miles an hour without letting herself cool down or even _think_ about the consequences of his actions. “Neal made his bed, he gets to lay in it. When you don’t give a shit that you did it, though? That’s when I have a problem. At least August knows enough to feel like scum for leaving me alone in that orphanage - “

 “Emma.”

 “Or, hell, the fact that he was the one to tell Neal in the _first_ place that they should set me up to scare me straight. But, y’know, August has come to grips with his decision, and it’s not like Neal, who to this _day_ , acts like it was all August’s fault and that he had absolutely no control in what happened - “

 “ _Emma._ ” Her father’s voice had changed again, and the blonde paused, wondering what her father was looking at past her. Judging by the look on her face, her stomach sank. Oh, awesome. Emma turned to face whatever her father was looking at behind her.

  _Don’t be August, don’t be August, don’t be August -_

 “Hi.”

  _Fuck me sideways._

 Typewriter wrapped in an enigma wrapped in stubble, smelling of whiskey and leather. And he was standing right at the end of the hall with his motorcycle helmet in hand, wrapped in said leather.

 “August...” Emma breathed, surprised that she still sounded like the Sheriff and not how she actually felt. For such a long time, each encounter with August was fun, flirtatious, and always with plenty of sexual tension underneath. Then, there was the reveal that he’d been fucking up her life from the get go, and then Neal had dumped that bombshell on her that August had “told him to leave”. Of course, it had been much more complicated than that, and dragging that out of Neal had been... painful, to say the least.

 Seeing him today was nothing like any of those other times. It wasn’t anger or that sort of unspoken, flirtatious, lighthearted tension. Emma had felt her entire body flush at the very _thought_ of the last time she’d seen him. The scratches all over her back, the bruises, the reminder of how his beard had felt along her inner thighs in a completely surprising twist of fate -

 “Can we help you, Pinocchio?” Emma bristled at the way her father said his name, and she could practically see August’s shoulders slump, dropping his head down to stare at the helmet in his gloved hands.

 There was a pause - August was probably debating if it was worth correcting David about his name, since that had been _rude_ and Emma would zing him for it later - and he glanced up at them. He was looking over Emma’s shoulder to her father, but his eyes... Emma knew that look. It was that look he’d had on his face when he tried to make her believe. That look like everything was broken and nothing could be fixed.

 “Actually, I’m here just to speak with the Sheriff for a moment.” August’s voice was even, substantially cool. Emma took that as flat out old. “She has my keys and I’d like my bike.” Ouch. Sheriff and he was all professional. Given the last time she’d seen him, she couldn’t blame him.

 Emma’s hand drifted to the pocket of her jacket, and she pulled free the keys to his bike. She let her fingers idly run along the textured metal, but she was too busy thinking about how dangerously close he’d come to driving drunk. And how much that had _worried her_.

 She’d been telling herself for days that she didn’t care about August. She’d gotten so wrapped up with Neal’s cult of personality, then been so angry at August, she’d let herself really think he could do whatever the hell he wanted.

 And then she’d actually seen him drunk.

 “There were stipulations to you getting these back.” Emma forced herself to reply, sauntering over as casual as she pleased. She had to stop, though, before she got within arm’s reach of him. The very notion of being that close to him was bringing back all of that raw sexuality and power she’d seen out of him the other night. It was a side of him she’d let herself think about - on the _occasion_ \- but never really thought she’d explore. Especially after she thought he was dead. Even when she’d come back and found he’d been alive, everything had been so crazy and jumbled up that she honestly hadn’t wanted to consider all the unrequited emotions she was warring with.

 “As you can see, Sheriff Swan, I am quite sober.” August’s breath certainly didn’t smell of alcohol. It smelled like cinnamon, maybe some coffee? She idly wondered if he’d eaten since sobering up. “But, if you would like to be unequivocally convinced, you can breathalyze me.” He was definitely sober. If nothing else, while she knew he had the capacity to be pretty witty while an angry, self-hating drunk, he wasn’t _quite_ that eloquent. Plus, from the way he was looking at her, like she was... what, water in the desert? It unsettled her now more than it ever had before.

 “I’ll go get the breathalyzer,” She heard her father say behind her, and Emma pulled herself away from the brilliant blue pools that were staring so sadly at her.

 “No, it’s fine.” She gruffly replied, reaching out and putting the keys in his hand unceremoniously. “He can have his bike back. He’s managed to crawl back out.” Emma felt the words stick in her throat a little, but it didn’t sound that way. She told herself she was helping. The last time she’d tried to help August, she’d ended up pants down against a brick wall. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about that, other than that she was highly aware that she could’ve stopped him at _any_ time. But, she hadn’t.

 Emma always knew how to pick ‘em.

 August’s fist closed around the keys, and Emma tore her gaze away. He could hardly look at her, she could hardly look at him, the whole thing was a mess.  “Thank you, Sheriff. Have a nice day.” August looked like he was about to turn to leave, but instead he stopped, strolling past Emma right to her father. “Your Majesty, I am very aware that you don’t like me, and you don’t like my father. You’re angry, you have every right to be. That being said, I was the one who let your family down. It was my job to do that for my father so that what he did wouldn’t be in vain. I screwed that up. So, if you could find it in your heart to forgive my father, I would appreciate it. Because, the fact is, he did what any father would do. _I’m_ the one that let your family down. My dad is just an old man who always wanted a son he could be proud of.” There was a pause, and Emma knew she wanted to face him, to see how the monologue had reached her father - _if_ it had. But, she just couldn’t turn. “But, we both know how that turned out. So... have a nice day as well, and, I can assure you I won’t be trouble for anyone anymore.”

 Emma did swivel at that, but August was already walking past her. She reached out to grab him, but missed, and he was out the door.

 Ooookay, then, _fuck you, too_. She propped her hands on her hips. It was a childish swell of anger, but, well, Emma wasn’t known for her fantastic temper-checking skills.

 At least she hadn’t said it out loud, and August was already out the door, presumably down the street to probably wherever he’d walked his bike to.

 She heard David’s footsteps behind her as she stared angrily at the door, as if somehow acting like an annoyed teen was going to fix this very adult mess she was in the middle of. “Didn’t you say he went to Phuket for a while?” The question wasn’t one Emma expected, but she answered it anyway, less than focused.

 “Yeah, right after he told Neal to ditch me. He left me the bug in a garage in Phoenix, then he vanished for ten years. I’m guessing from the massive amounts of guilt.” Emma was still staring at the door. She couldn’t see the look on her father’s face.

 “That’s what I thought.” She saw David prop his hands on his hips to match hers out of the corner of her eye, but didn’t call him on it. “Tell me, because you know August better than I do. How much guilt would you say he was carrying right now?” Emma wasn’t sure she knew where he was going with this, and she turned to face him before she realized the... very sympathetic look on her father’s face. “Because, I’d say that’s enough guilt to make a man run.” David shrugged. “But that’s just me. And I’m the one who almost left your mother over accidentally making her the town pariah.”

 Emma swallowed as the realization of what her father was telling her washed over, and she turned back to the door. “He wouldn’t...” She whispered, immediately correcting herself. “He _would_.”

 “You okay with that?” David asked.

 The weeks of fighting, the angst, the stress of trying to balance reconnecting with Neal, even if every time they talked it felt a bit more poisonous, a bit more negative, making her question why she’d ever thought she loved him in the first place. And before she’d learned about Neal and August’s interaction, August had just... been there. He’d tried to help her, to guide her, and yeah, sure, he’d been more standoff-ish than normal, but... he’d been hurting.

 Emma swallowed again, but this time, it stuck in her throat. August had struck through all this time and the reason he was leaving was because of _her_. Not because she’d been focused on Neal. Because when she focused on him, he’d told her everything.

 “Oh, that stupid...” Emma dashed into the office, grabbing her keys on her desk. “ _Jackass!_ ” She finished before swivelling less than gracefully back towards the door. She skidded to a halt in front of David, trying to think of something, _anything_ to say that didn’t sound completely _stupid_.  “I’ve gotta stop him before he really does leave because he’s a jackass - I said that already, didn’t I  - and he needs to know I’m not mad at him about the other night. Hold down the fort.” Emma breathed before dashing out the door.

 She vaguely heard her father shout back, “Wait, what about _the other night?_ ”

 Emma had already forgotten about David’s question by the time she made it to the street. She pivoted on her heels, trying to see which way August had gone. For a split-second, she was worried she’d missed him entirely.

 When she caught sight of him just down the street, standing next to his bike, helmet in hand, she was pretty sure this was about the same level of relief she’d felt when she’d realized he hadn’t _died._ “August!” She breathed before bolting down the street to catch up with him. “August, wait!”

 It was eerie, how she remembered hearing August calling out for her like this one before, in the woods. God, she hadn’t believed him then, either. She was just fantastic at enhancing this guy’s untrustworthiness complex.

 “August,” Emma reached him as he turned to face her, his expression not really confused, not much of anything. “Hey. Hey, we need to talk.” She sputtered out, trying to stay casual even as she was busy panting and catching her breath.

 He didn’t answer her.

 He just didn’t. He turned and put on his helmet, as if somehow that was a _mature_ way to handle this issue.

 “Hey, I’m talking to you.” Emma snapped, reaching out to grab his arm. “Whether you like it or not.”

 Her stubbled leather-clad enigma turned to face her, and Emma could tell that this was it. He was going to leave. It was _exactly_ what he’d been planning, and knowing him, he’d been thinking about it the moment he helped her put her _pants_ back on. “Emma - “

 “You’re leaving? Seriously? My dad was right? You’re gonna leave over this?” Again, no response, and Emma felt her anger just boil right up to the surface. While she’d been sitting there telling herself how bad she should’ve felt for ranting at him, she felt absolutely no remorse now that she was confronted with a decision of _his_ for _her_ well-being that she didn’t like. “Oh my god, he’s right.”  Emma shook her head. “No. No, this is not happening. You’re not going to leave just because of - of - “

 “Because of us?” August tried to finish for her, but Emma was too incensed to let it be that easy to fluster her.

 “No, because of your _guilt_. Because you are constantly putting yourself up to these unrealistic expectations and when you don’t measure up, you just crumble. Like a _cookie tower._ ”

 August rolled his eyes, an infuriating gesture even if it made her stomach flip, and straddled his bike with ease. “It’s better this way, Emma. Hell, think of it like this.” He turned to look back at her as he set his helmet onto his head. “You don’t have to keep being angry with me over how badly I hate myself.”

 As he turned the bike over, the sound of the engine roaring at once comforting and suddenly terrifying, Emma did the _one_ thing she knew would stop him before he took off, presumably out of her life forever.

 She stepped in front of the bike, her hands on the handlebars right over his, staring him down. “Emma! What the hell -”

 “Take me to the well!” She blurted out, panic written on her face plain as day. She wasn’t even sure why she said it. It sorta just... sounded good at the time.

 Confusion flickered across August’s features, probably because he was trying to figure out where Emma was going with this. To be fair, she still was, too. “You...” He tried to work it out. “You want me to take you to the well.”

 “Yes.” Emma’s mind raced as she tried to formulate a concrete plan out of this instant bubble of inspiration she’d found. “I want to talk to you about - about all of this, but I’m not gonna do it in the middle of the street. And I’m not gonna do it anywhere within earshot of someone who might tell my mom or dad, so that pretty much rules out most of Storybrooke and _especially_ Granny’s, given the super-hearing.” He was opening his mouth again, but she couldn’t afford for him to just knock all that away. Emma might not have had time to process it all, but she wasn’t about to let him leave before they could talk about it. “ _Look._ If you’re _really_ set on leaving Storybrooke, if you _really_ are gonna leave your father, and Jiminy and me and Henry and everyone else who’s taken the time to get to know you, then you _owe me this._ ”

 Silence fell between the two of them, save for the rumble of the engine purring beneath them both.

 August gave in.

 “Fine.” He motioned to the other side of the bike, towards the sidewalk, and Emma shifted around to see what he was pointing to.

 Emma wasn’t sure her stomach could sink any lower. Huffing, she walked over, scooping up her helmet and shooting him a dirty glare as she pulled it on. Unbelievable. He was going to _leave_ the second helmet - _her_ helmet - there.

 Undaunted by that, though, Emma still slipped onto the bike behind him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. She could feel August take an especially deep breath against her, and she caught a whiff of leather and a hint of whiskey. His jacket still held the scent of the bar...

 It was a blessing when the bike finally rolled down the road, effectively shutting off any avenue for communication. The drive was without conversation, but Emma’s mind was still trying to organize her thoughts. She was so bad at that, everyone knew it.

 By the time they’d reached the well, she had a basic idea of what she wanted to tell him. All of it true, but... ugh, she wasn’t the writer, that was his damned job.

  _You won’t be able to make remarks like that when he’s gone..._ A voice told her, and she stiffened against him as they rounded the corner and the well came into view.

 August rolled the bike to a stop at that same spot in the canopy of trees she’d grown accustomed to. While she and August had never come back to the well, she’d found herself out there before, when escaping the Fairytale world. Even then, it had been painfully obvious that August had been missing from that reunion.

 But, that was why she’d picked here. Here was where everything had really started. It was the first time he’d tried to make her believe, and she was _so stubborn._ Emma tugged off her helmet, dropping it beside them on the ground.

 As August pulled off his own helmet, the bike turning off as he lowered the kickstand, Emma simply couldn’t let him go. In fact, the moment he tried to lift himself off of the seat, she held him tighter, so he couldn’t move.

 “Emma, what’re you doing - “

 “Shut up, August, it’s my turn to talk.” She said so quickly and with such desperation, August actually froze. She waited until he’d settled again on the bike with a sigh. He had silently acquiesced. She loosened her grip on his waist, but she didn’t let go. The thought that she could lose him if she didn’t tell him the _right_ things honestly had her clinging to him _physically._ Who would’ve thought? She took a deep breath. “When you told me you were Pinocchio, I hated you. I thought you were some delusional, pathological liar who wanted to use me for whatever reason. I dunno, maybe you just wanted to sleep with me, but the point was, I didn’t trust you as far as I could throw you, because I had _trusted_ you and you were using my past against me.” She felt August stiffen, but she pressed on. “And then I thought you died. _Just_ as I needed you, I had been too late and you were suddenly gone.” The memories threatened to distract her, and she forced herself to push on, like she always did. “So I tried to forget about you, just like I tried to forget about Graham, about everyone. That’s what I do. I just... I keep going. And then...” Okay, she really didn’t want to give him the run down on her grief, they’d sort of had that conversation before. “You know how it was when I realized you were alive. And then we went about acting like everything was fine while I pulled every string I could think of get you back to being a real man. Then Neal showed up, and... I guess I thought it would be best if I could reconcile with him. He’s Henry’s _father._ I mean, it was only fair.”

 She heard him inhale, ready to speak, but she tightened her grip. “I’m not done.” He paused, letting out the breath, and Emma continued. “The mess with Neal telling me about you setting me up - I was wrong. I should’ve waited to talk to you after I wasn’t so angry, and after I’d been able to get more information out of him. Fact is... it was easier to be mad at you.” Emma’s voice softened as she found herself... opening up. “Because you make things too complicated, August. Because, around you, I can’t just shut you out, or close you off. I have to open up around you like I do around my parents. But, you’re not family. Not... not like them, anyway. The reason I came to find you at the bar was because I wanted to talk to you about the fight, to apologize. But, you were drunk and I realized it wasn’t the time to tell you that I had forgiven you. That I _didn’t_ hate you.”

 Emma paused a long moment. She knew she really should’ve opened up more. There was more to tell, but...she chickened out. She just couldn’t do it. Not yet. So, she turned her attention to the... more immediate situation. What had happened at the bar. “And then you kissed me.” There. That was a good start. Emma felt August stiffen under her grip, and she shifted her hands up a little. “I was surprised, but I _liked_ it. Hell, I liked the way you did everything. Except the self-hating, I coulda done without that.”

 “What about Neal - “ He breathed, confused.

 “Shut up about Neal, I _don’t_ wanna talk about Neal.” Emma brusquely shut him up, her hands reaching up to his pecs, resting there. Of course, the moment she did that, she was very brashly reminded of how it had felt to have her hands on his shoulders. Before she could stop herself, her hands were wandering along that leather jacket freely, as though they’ve never been fighting at all. “Point is, _don’t_ leave. Not because of me, or because you think I don’t want you.” She leaned closer, ghosting against his ear. “I _do_.”

 Okay, he wasn’t speaking. That couldn’t be good.

 “I... have no idea what I can follow that up with.” August didn’t sound upset, he was just... thunderstruck. “I mean... nope. I honestly can’t... my brain isn’t...”

 Oh, great. She had somehow stumped the verbose one of the two of them. “Well, you could follow that up with ‘I want you, too? My drunken rage wasn’t the only reason I wanted to sleep with you?’”

 August laughed, relief apparently permeating everything, but he quickly became serious once more. “I took advantage of you - “

 “August, you were drunk and I was sober.” Emma leaned close, resting her head on his shoulder, hugging him closer. “Pretty sure that means I took advantage of you.” A grin graced her features as she felt August shiver in her grip. It was a welcome distraction, making her think - again - of the bar, of the way he’d desperately clung to her, muttering how perfect she was. “Of course,” Emma purred, shifting so she could keep up breathing her words into August’s ear. “I’m not sure how I could have ‘ _made you’_ go down on me, but I am certainly not complaining about the beard burns on my inner thighs,” Emma huskily chuckled. “And I have been thinking about how to ‘make’ you do it, again.”

 August shifted in his seat, clearly his position was a little less comfortable. One of his hands reached up to grab at hers, holding it tightly. “You could just _ask_ me.”

 “I could...” Emma’s fingers against his gloved hand made slow stroking movements, quite purposeful and quite mischievous. This was comfortable, this was a game she could keep playing. Emma let one of her hands wander down past his hips to his leg, fingers running along the denim of his inner thigh. “Or I could just take advantage of you again, since we’re _both_ sober.” Her fingers found his belt buckle. That damn buckle that was ornate and classy but such a staple of his look. With one swift move, she managed to unbuckle it and push it aside, her fingers finding the button of his jeans just as her lips found the pulse of his neck. “I wonder how you’d like it with the shoe on the other foot.” She breathed, completely taking advantage of the position. The way her arms were wrapped around him, she could feel each breath of his as it hitched. The other night was _definitely_ not a fluke, and at the moment, Emma was ready to just throw caution to the wind. “Because you’re not the only one who has time to think about all the things they’d want to do.”

 “Emma, um...” Her fingers slipped beneath the material of his jeans and his boxers, finding what she was _really_ looking for. Both of them fell silent as she took her time, exploring his quickly growing arousal as she freed it from the prison of his jeans. She didn’t want to say anything, she just wanted to savor the fact that he was there, wasn’t going to be leaving anytime soon, and most of all, clearly wanted her. How long had she been telling herself that August wasn’t even an option? Too mysterious, too dangerous, too much of a liar. Then, it was too weird, too complicated and he was too close.She’d gone flocking to Neal because it was easier, she ultimately expected him to break her heart. Not August. She just knew... he didn’t want to hurt her. He _did_ hurt her, that was the problem, but never intentionally.

 Even if Emma couldn’t say the words, she wanted to show him that his trust and desire for her hadn’t been misplaced. Her hand kept moving, casually running along his length in slow, teasing motions. It was clearly meant to torture him, a way of paying him back for making her feel this way. It was vindictive, but she couldn’t help it. He’d spent the better part of an hour making her orgasm so hard she’d seen stars.

 “So, I wonder what it would happen if I kept doing this?” She grinned as her fingers felt moisture beading along the tip of his length, then used that to her advantage, lazily wrapping her fingers around him so she could stroke him all the way to the base of his shaft.

 August groaned, a sound that sent shivers all down Emma’s body. Warmth immediately pooled beneath her legs to a distracting degree. Man, if he had been trying to discourage her, he was really screwed now. “This will be a very short trip to the well, Emma...” He breathed, surprisingly witty when she had her hand wrapped around his cock.

 “Yeah, well, the well gives you back what was lost. I wonder if that would work...” She giggled at her own joke as her hand tightened a little, adding additional friction and pressure, eliciting another delicious noise from him.

 “Oh, fuck, are you really making a joke right now?” August’s hips suddenly arched in her hand, and Emma’s eyebrows rose slightly. His hands made their way to her legs, running up and down her thighs to her knees. She shifted a bit, enjoying the fact that she was somehow making him hold them both on balance on the bike while he was.... unlacing her boots - _Nice._ Emma reached her other hand up to his jacket, unzipping it and relishing the sound while he finished unlacing the leather wrapped around her calves. She kicked her boots off one at a time.

 “What’s wrong, August?” Emma’s hand began to speed up a little, drawing a growl from him that made her immediately think of those bruises on her neck. “Having trouble focusing?”

 “Emma...” His breathing had hitched even more. She took the opportunity to run her hand under his shirt, now that the jacket wasn’t in the way, trying to commit all of it to memory. There was a little part of her saying that she shouldn’t have given into her urges; it wasn’t fair to him, since she couldn’t sort herself out.

 And then suddenly Emma wasn’t in control anymore.

 August’s hand found hers, and he pulled her away from his sensitive skin, holding her wrists high above them both. “Up. You gotta get off of this thing or I’m gonna go nuts.” He huskily ordered, almost pulling her right off the bike. Emma got up off the bike with a mischievous grin, backing just out of arm’s reach. When he made a move for her and he couldn’t grab her, he groaned, his erection quite painfully obvious, his jeans pushed down enough by this point that he couldn’t get up. “Emma.” He said by way of warning, motioning for her to come closer. “Are you kidding me, _Emma._ ”

 “It’s cold, I don’t know how you’re so... attentive.” She quipped. August was apparently thinking the same thing, though, as he’d grabbed the blanket out of his saddlebag and was swinging it at her as if he could gab her.

 “Get _over_ here, you minx!” He snapped, those brilliant blue eyes of his finally twinkling. He was pent up, but that devilish streak made her shiver. It was good to see him like this. She wasn’t thinking about anything else.

 Emma grabbed hold of the blanket because he kept swatting her, and that was the end of that. With a solid tug, she went stumbling towards him, and he caught her easily, wrapping her up in the blanket for the moment.

 “You are such a pain in my ass, _Princess_.” He growled as he pulled her close, unzipping her jacket. His lips captured hers swiftly and decisively, while his hands made short work of her pants, pulling them down. He spun her so she was facing away from him, presumably so he could peel her clothes off well enough that she could step out of them. His fingers quickly flickered up against her inner thigh before finding the heat that had been building while she’d toyed with him. “C’mere.”

 With strength she didn’t realize he had - although, by this point, it should have been obvious - Emma found herself set on that familiar metal and leather beast in front of the other leather beast she knew. While there was clearly still playful August there, she wasn’t going to have the opportunity to miss the dark, forceful August who had scraped her up and made her moan. Now that she was on the bike in front of him, she could feel his arousal against her backside. Not that she had time to dwell on it, as suddenly one arm was wrapped around her waist, snaking up to her breast under her shirt. His other hand had settled between her legs, a finger finding the sensitive bunch of nerves between her lips that was already swollen and waiting for his touch.

 Moaning, she dropped her head back against his shoulder, and thoughts of anything but the feeling of the bike beneath her and August behind her had faded away. As she felt his mouth lock onto her pulse in her neck, she grabbed at the blanket that was somehow tangled around them both, tugging it closer. The chilled air just enhanced every single motion, every scratch of the blanket, every scrape of his beard. Her hips worked against his hand as wordless moans just spilled from her mouth like before. Her mind was quickly going blank, she could do no more than just suffer deliciously through his torture.

 She was vaguely aware of hearing his voice encouraging her to let go, and she couldn’t hold back. The whole situation, having control, having it taken away, it was too much. Emma tried to turn towards him, and her lips were captured by his again. She moaned against his mouth as she lost it, crashing over that wave of sensation he’d been building her to.

 Finally, she had to break for air, panting and whimpering as his hand slowed. He’d let her ride it out, and for a moment, she thought maybe he would give her some time to breathe.

 August’s hands gripped at her hips, and Emma felt her body being lifted. Reaching out for something, anything, her hands found the handlebars of the bike again, which provided her an unexpected, but solid support.

 Without a word but with plenty of care, August lowered her down towards his hips. A noise that could only be described as a mewl escaped her as he filled her all at once. It wasn’t hard and rough like against the bar, this was maddeningly slow, each inch making her muscles clench and her body shiver and squirm against him. It wasn’t fair. How the hell could he know what she liked so well?

 Once he had finally sunk in to the hilt, the two of them were silent and still. Emma was clutching the handle bars, and August’s hands were on her hips, squeezing tightly. After what felt like a lifetime, August’s hands finally moved her away, then back down onto him again, slow at first. A moan caught in her throat, and he did it again, sending another pleasant shock through her body.

 Before either of them realized it, the two of them had set a pace, slow and torturous. His hands slid from her hips up and down her back, along her stomach, everywhere he could. Emma had had more than her fair share of fantasies involving August and this damn bike of his, but she’d never once expected to be in the middle of one. The blanket kept the two of them as tightly wrapped together as possible, her hands clenched and unclenched on the handlebars, and August’s fingers dug into the flesh of her hips more as he began to guide her into a faster, stronger pace.

 The encouragement didn’t go unnoticed, but Emma’s struggle for dominance kicked in again. Fuck, it was _her_ turn to be in charge - so she thought - but she noticed that he didn’t fight her when she began to take the lead. Her hips sped up, grew more forceful, as she began to ride him in earnest, drawing new groans and growls from the man behind her as his hands drifted back to under her shirt, raking down her back.

 Her name kept spilling from his lips like a prayer, until he managed to slide his arm around her waist again and he finally pulled her flush against him. No more handlebars, no more control, she was completely at his mercy. He thrust up into her, somehow managing to keep balance on the bike, as that one arm around his waist held her tightly to him. His lips and beard let hot trails down her neck again before he finally latched onto a soft spot, suckling hard enough to make her cry out.

 “August, I...” Emma trailed off, an unsuccessful warning to let him know she was growing close, didn’t think she could hold on for much longer. To her surprise, his other hand slid back up between her legs - fuck, why did she straddle a bike, she knew _exactly_ where he was going - and found her clit again. His fingers teased the sensitive nub as a feral growl rumbled from his grip on her neck right through her spine. It was too much. She heard him plead for her to come for him, as if he was depending on it just as much as she needed him, and Emma let a long,broken cry loose as her muscles clenched around him, her body shuddered, and she squeezed her eyes shut as sensation completely overtook her.

 A few more thrusts, and August clung to her so hard she thought she couldn’t breathe, his own orgasm completely taking over. He groaned, his lips and teeth in her neck growing more intense for a breathless moment before he finally pulled back, panting against her skin.

 His arms still wrapped around her, the two of them remained in that position, riding through sensation

 Emma eventually stole a glance back at him, reaching up and running her hand along the scruffy bear of his she’d grown accustomed to. She wanted his attention, and eventually those pretty blue eyes of his opened and focused on her.

 “You don’t get to leave, August W. Booth. You understand me? Not unless I tell you to.” 


	3. Earn Your Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMFG, I am so sorry this took so long, Babes! I honest to God, I had this planned out, I knew what I was gonna do with it, but I could not seem to get this thing rolling for weeks. It was driving me insane. I re-wrote the first page about four times before it finally started to roll the way it needed to. I hope, that being said, that the end will more than make up for it. I’m quite thrilled with the actual part you all came for. It was getting there that I wasn’t thrilled with. Think it’s all worked out now. Also, sheesh, this thing got schmoopy in the middle. They’re so stupid for each other. For your listening pleasure, I encourage you to listen to Try by Pink as you get into the good stuff. Anyway, enjoy the end of Heavy Metal Lover, Babes! Captain, *salutes*, permission to take a much needed shore leave. *Falls over* Please give kudos, reviews, everything and anything!
> 
> Complimentary Author’s Care Package: Please take your towel, bottle of cold water, bag of ice to cool off, and the cold showers are right around that way.

_“I’d watch out for her if I were you, son.”_

_“Is that so, Widow Lucas?”_

_“Don’t you give me any of that sass and flirt, young man, I’ve got your number. Those pretty blue eyes of yours may work on Emma, but they won’t work on me. I’m made of sterner stuff.”_

_“Funny, I remember a spry and sassy innkeeper who would’ve taken a spin with me –“_

  _“That was before I realized I used to make you your socks for your father. Besides, I can’t compete with Emma. No one can, because you’ve only had eyes for her the second you waltzed into town.”_

  _“That obvious, huh?”_

_“Were you honestly trying to hide it? Thought not. And if I hadn’t known before now, I certainly knew when you threw yourself into a whiskey bath after that blowout the two of you had on the street. And yet here you are,  having been walkin’ on sunshine the last couple of weeks all over again .Until this morning. Emma doesn’t seem to be all that healthy for you, lad...”_

 The images of a heated argument, the sight of Emma’s tears and the sounds of subsequent demands to be left alone... it all swam through August’s head and reflected in the amber hues of the fifth of Jack Daniels he had poured almost an hour ago. He was honestly surprised that he was still staring at the deceptively innocuous glass, and that he hadn’t given into the itch that was in the back of his mind, the whispers of everything he’d seen.

 He felt cheated. He felt duped. Never a good combination for someone who had built an entire reputation on being able to fool anyone with honeyed words and seductive prose.

 For the man who liked to lose track of time, and himself, for that matter, he found himself clinging desperately to the notion that he didn’t want to do so here. No. He wanted to be angry.

 For once, the anger wasn’t directed at himself. He had started to think that maybe he deserved the opportunity to genuinely feel wronged, even if he knew he truly wasn’t in a position to. Emma... he’d done so much to her in the past, he knew he really didn’t have a rational reason to be angry. Did he?

 When he’d left Granny’s that morning, it was at possibly the longest two-week stretch he’d ever experienced, waiting for Emma. After their... encounter at the well, he’d taken her demand to heart, and he’d decided to remain in Storybrooke. Granny had been pleased, and given him back the key to his room in a heartbeat.

 If only everything else had been so easy.

 August had had to play things slow with Emma, ever since he’d rolled into Storybrooke and asked where he could find a place to stay. Then, everything else got in the way; he was forced to backburner how he felt. But, once that bastard had told Emma about what he’d done, the way he’d forced her life in a direction, made decisions _for her_... he knew then that Emma would never want anything to do with him again. Every angry barb shot his way, he knew he deserved. It was so, _so_ easy just to take a drink, let himself keep sinking, let the numbness come over him...

 But, then she’d shown up. And his lack of filter... _God_ , he hated himself. He really did. Even after their tryst at the well, he was sure that the reason he hadn’t seen Emma once in two weeks aside from a casual wave was because she was avoiding him. She’d had second thoughts. She didn’t need him after all, nor did she want him. Or worse.... August’s heart clenched painfully, his fingers ran along the rim of his highball glass as the thought filled his mind with greater intensity at each circle. Each of those fevered kisses, the scorching touch of her fingers on his hard length, coaxing him with every sigh and moan to stay, and... maybe it had meant nothing. She had slept with him simply to get him to stay there.

 Like he didn’t matter to her. 

  _That_ was why August couldn’t bring himself to break his dry spell, to feel harsh, acrid, burning liquor touch his lips and roll over his tongue. He knew it would bring back all of that dark, deep introspection, reaffirming that he wasn’t good enough for anyone, a failure. Easily used, easily distracted and, as his past efforts in Phuket had taught him, easily bought. She shouldn’t want anything to do with him anyway.

 Suddenly, the more he thought about it, the more appetizing that drink became.

  _Nononono, that’s not who I am anymore._ August pushed away from the desk, leaning back. He reached up, scrubbing his face with his hands, rubbing his eyes so hard that he hoped the spots would give him something new to think about. Unfortunately, being sober wasn’t a boon in this instance. Instead of filling his thoughts with self-hatred, he kept reminding himself that he had wanted to change when he arrived in Storybrooke. If for no one else, he wanted to change for _himself._ He’d made too many mistakes, he had wanted to be a better person, someone his father could be proud of. Did he really want to fall back into the bottom of a bottle? What would he do _next_ time? He’d already taken advantage of Emma once, he couldn’t do it again. If he did... he’d leave. For good. It wouldn’t matter what words she had for him, whatever sweet little lies she told to keep him there for whatever God-forsaken reason she could think of. But, he knew better. All she had to do was look at him and he was struck with how good it felt to be pressed against her, to have his fingers against her, ordering her to let go just for him... suddenly, he could never touch a needle or a drink again if he just had her -

 A determined pounding at August’s door broke that train of thought before he could go any further.

 Scrubbing his face with his hand, he stood and pushed away from the desk. The need quieted for just a moment, easier to ignore again. Just as well. He needed to stick to his proverbial guns on this, needed to resist the urge to lose himself. That wasn’t the man he wanted to be.

 Of course, the moment he opened the door, he was struck with surprise as strongly as if he’d just run into the wall. August blinked. “E-Emma...”

 “Hi.” Abrupt, breathless, looking slightly distressed, slightly disheveled and completely what he needed in that moment. Oh, that was problematic. August’s anger didn’t dissipate, but it certainly wasn’t sure how to adapt to having her in front of him. His ire had been solely based on the notion that she did not care, that she didn’t really want him there, and that it had all been some sort of cross between anger over him taking advantage of her and pity for his father that made her convince him to stay. Having her standing in front of him bundled in her jacket, hat askew... well, it sort of threw off his reason for being angry. “We need to talk.”

 A surge of renewed anger welled up from his stomach, and the confusion melted away. So, that was how it was going to be. After her outburst, she was still allowed to supposedly set the terms. August recognized it. It was a defense mechanism. If she was always in charge, she didn’t have to let anyone in, didn’t have to trust anyone. Not even him. He swallowed, nodding and stepping aside. He would allow her to enter, curbing his desire to shut the door in her face. He knew he’d regret it, that it wasn’t what he really wanted to do. He knew himself well enough to know when self-destruction was right around the corner.

 Once she was in the room, though, and the door shut, he found himself staring at her the lines of her body as she stared at the glass of whiskey on his desk. He didn’t know what she was thinking, but he knew exactly where he was focused. He was thinking of how good it had felt to hold her in his arms, raking his hands down her back as she rode him on his own motorcycle, a heady combination of lust, leather and the barest hint of the exhaust before it had dissipated into the wind. Her words, coaxing him to stay, that she wanted him, it was more distracting than if she’d actually been saying them in front of him.

 He shook the thoughts aside as she whirled to face him. Anger furrowed her brow, made her step towards him, right into that very precious personal space that he had been relying on to keep his head clear. “What the hell is this? I thought you were gonna lay off of this stuff, August.” Oh, there it was. An accusation before he’d even said hello to her.

August leaned against the door, crossing his arms over his chest as he tried to keep his anger in check. Silence was his defense mechanism. He was a man, more often than not, of carefully chosen words and thoughts. He took the time to plan what he said, otherwise his wit might fail him in place of some easy lie. He didn’t want that around Emma. August’s entire plan to make her believe had been one he’d always played out in his head, and in the few times he’d stumbled, he’d recovered with ease, the effortless tales sliding past his lips as if he’d always planned it that way.

 “I came over here to talk to you, but it looks like you already have company.” Emma groused, beginning to make her way back towards the door, but August shifted so he blocked the doorway entirely. “ _Really?_ Silent treatment? And you’re... what, not gonna let me leave?”

 “Well, you weren’t too keen on letting me talk to you earlier.” August coolly replied, a smooth operator even when he was upset. His bright blue eyes were hard, unforgiving as he looked her over. The thought of the last time he’d seen her that morning just renewed the sensation that he was justified in how he was acting. “In fact, your exact words were ‘leave me the hell alone, I don’t need you right now.’” August tilted his head. “And we seem to be going in circles. You push me away, I try to move on, and then you show up to tell me what to do.” He reached up, scratching at an itch in his scruff. “Doesn’t seem all that fair to me.”

 That seemed to work. For the moment. Emma softened - as much as she ever did when she was angry - and pulled off the hat on her head, unzipping her jacket. “Look, I didn’t mean that. Well, okay, no, I meant that I wanted to be alone and that I didn’t need you right then, but you’re taking it all wrong -”

 “Oh, so _I’m_ the problem...” August smirked, but there wasn’t a whole lot of mirth behind it. This was all definitely confirming for him that he should’ve just left Storybrooke two weeks ago when he’d had the chance. He’d made peace with leaving his father, as he was better off without a son that was such a profound disappointment.

 Emma shot him an unamused glare. “That is not what I meant and you know it.”

 “Do I?” August searched the room while he collected his thoughts. He was barely keeping it together with her so close. All he wanted to do was kiss her until her lips were bruised, reminding him exactly how she felt against the brick wall. He _needed_ her. She might not have thought she needed him, but there was no denying that Emma had laced herself right through his veins and he couldn’t handle anything but going all in. “Emma, you haven’t talked to me in two weeks.”

 “That’s not true, I - “

 “Say hi to me as you pass me on the streets? Yeah, funny enough, I don’t really think that qualifies as holding a conversation.” August pushed off the wall, taking a step closer, the urge to take control of the volatile situation rearing its head again. “You told me to stay. You told me not to leave because of you, but then you told me to _stay._ So, when I finally see that Neal is _gone_ , and you are clearly looking distressed by this fact, I try to return the favor and help you. Because that’s what I have _always_ wanted to do for you. Instead, you throw it back in my face.” August tilted his head, the anger beginning to flow freely now. A fight was brewing, he was sure she could feel the change in the air as well, but he didn’t care. Emma had this tendency to change everything for him, and he didn’t want to shut up. “Why _is_ that? Is it because you really don’t want anything to do with me, or because you’re just that upset he’s gone?” Shit. August caught himself, but he didn’t let his body language show he wanted to take that last jab back. He was jealous. Over the guy that he had _brought back into Emma’s life_. He was the stupid moron who’d sent the postcard, like he somehow thought he knew what was best for Emma. _Again._ He shouldn’t have been surprised it had all screwed up this badly.

 “This isn’t about _you_ , August!” August paused, taken aback by the statement, the raw frustration in her face. “Jesus Christ, seriously? I’ve been dealing with Neal for _weeks_ \- a mess _you_ dumped in my lap by the way, so thanks - and he was finally _gone_. It’s been so, _so_ stressful, I was relieved he was gone!” Emma tore off her jacket and tossed it aside onto his desk chair, propping her hands on her hips. “Just because I didn’t want you there patting my back while I was bawling my eyes out in relief doesn’t mean that it’s somehow a personal slight!”

 “How am I supposed to know that, Emma?!” August shot back. Another step closer, another step into her personal space, tension radiating between the both of them. “I can help you -”

 “I don’t _need_ your help, August - “

 “I never said you did, but if you _wanted_ it, I was willing to give it!” The look on her face was so surprised that she didn’t have a comeback. August’s lips parted as he took it all in. “You... you still don’t trust me. That’s what this is.”

 “What’re you saying? Of course I trust you.” Emma’s voice wavered slightly. “I was keeping my distance because I needed to. I had a job to do, and that was getting Neal out of Storybrooke. And I’ve trusted you with plenty. I wouldn’t let you near my son if I couldn’t trust you.” It went without saying between the two of them. They both knew August would do anything for that kid. He had never forgiven himself for giving up when he did. If he could’ve spared Henry the sleeping curse, he would have, and he still wished he had not put the kid in the position he had.

 “I’m not talking about that kind of trust, Emma. I know you trust me when you think you need me for something.” August reached out, snatching her by the bicep and pulling her closer. The moment he did that, he knew he’d gone too far. Man, he’d seen that cliff and jumped right off it. “I’m talking about trusting me enough to _let me in._ ” Oh, this was dangerous. He needed to let her go. No, actually, he needed to push her right out the door and tell her not to come back. He was bad for her, he knew that. He kept summarily wrecking her life. What was going to be any different about this?

 “August, um...” Emma swallowed, surprisingly not fighting him. He actually thought he’d get a smack this time. “I don’t know what you’re...” She was gonna backpedal. _Great_.

 Not this time. He barely managed to keep his grip stable on her, even though everything in his body was screaming to show, not tell. But, he had to try. He was the wordsmith, after all. “I get that you don’t like to let people in. Took forever to let your mom and dad in, and Neal hurt you, I _get_ all that, but if I could take that away, I would.”

 “Okay, stop that.” Emma tried to wrench out of his grip, but he held fast, and she shot him a dark look. “Let me go, August. I’m not doing this again.”

 “Doing what? Having an honest conversation?”

 “No, I’m not letting you martyr yourself all over me at both our expenses.” She tried to pull away. “This was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have come over here. I don’t... I mean, we...” Emma huffed. “I told you I trusted you before. And I _do_. But, you can’t expect me to just... take these walls down. They’re there for a reason - “

 “Yes, because I helped _put_ them there, Emma! I know I screwed up, several times over. I spent the first 15 years of my life regretting that I ever left you alone! And then I spent another ten _hating_ myself because I wasn’t there for you when you got out - “

 “You hardly knew me! We both know I wouldn’t have believed you!” Another pull at the hand on her arm, but he didn’t let go. He couldn’t. Now that they were talking about all his regrets, he was so afraid she was going to walk away for good now.

 “But, if I had known how badly I was going to fall in love with you, I would have _stayed_!” The words were out before he could stop them, but he meant them. He knew that, and he knew at this point.... he had to go all in or fold. He couldn’t keep upping the ante at this point.

 Emma stopped cold, her body softening under his touch, a look he’d only seen once before on her face. It was the just like the time he’d told her about the toreador. A sort of vulnerable surprise, recognizing the honest affection he had for her. It was love. He knew that, it was _stupid_ , but it completely colored every decision he’d made since he arrived in Storybrooke. He hadn’t been sure when he’d realized it, but he had always thought he wasn’t good enough for her. It was the constant war. What he wanted versus what he thought was best for her.

 “Well, you didn’t.” Emma’s voice was barely a whisper, but something had definitely changed. At the reminder of August’s worst failures - a bus he’d thrown himself under, to be perfectly honest - he loosened his grip on her arm just enough. She backed away. She was putting those walls up. _Fuck,_ he’d ruined this. He’d ruined _her_. Like _every other time he got involved._ “So, let that go. I don’t want your pity.” She hardened, steering around the bomb August had dropped between them. “And that’s why I can’t do this.” She swallowed, shaking her head. “I can’t, August. I can’t trust you. Like that. What if you leave? What if it doesn’t work? What if... what if you don’t really love me and you just think you do because you have all that guilt wrapped about me? See, I can’t do that.” Desperation colored her features, and suddenly August felt like he was breaking her heart by admitting he wanted to even occupy a small space there in the first place.  “I can’t do it again, August. I can’t put a label on this and try to make it work. I’m not cut out for - for - “

 “For what?” He was reaching with her, trying to stay one step ahead of her. “For being happy? In a relationship?”

 “For _any_ of it!” Emma stared at him like he was insane for even suggesting it. “There are too many risks, and if I do this, if I even _think_ about letting you, and you leave - “

 “I _won’t!”_

 “You say that now!” Emma choked, a sudden swell of emotion cutting her off and making tears well in her eyes. Oh, god this was horrible. What was he doing to her, asking her this? “But, what if you decide you’re bored here? Or you get the urge to drink and you just stumble right out of town and I never see you again? Can you promise me _any_ of that?!”

 Silence fell between the two of them. Could he do that?

 August didn’t hesitate. He grabbed her and pulled her close, hands cradling her face as he kissed her. He slid a hand down to her waist and whirled her around, pushing her up against the doorway, trying to convince her, plead with her, beg with her, promise her with every touch of his lips, every caress of his fingers, that he would do that. They were both _experts_ at running, but he was sick of it. Truly sick of running.

 When he finally pulled back, his lungs burning for air, his breath was hot against her lips as those bright eyes of his stared down at her. “I promise you. You give me a list of demands, I will do every one of them. I will _never_ leave you. You want me to stop? I will never touch another drink. If you need me to wake you up telling you I love you and that I’m not leaving, and remind you when you fall asleep that I’m next to you, I’ll do that, too.” His thumb brushed against her lips as he kept talking. The promises were effortless. He knew keeping them might not be, but he couldn’t imagine another day without being with her. He could give up just about anything for her. “But, I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to. I need you, I think about you. Always. I know you think I might run, but I won’t. I ran because I was lonely. You never knew our world, but I did. I knew my father. I knew what I was supposed to do, and how badly I failed him. But, you made me trust you. In a heartbeat.” He smiled. “With the fate of everyone who depended on you. I knew somehow, you’d come around. Because I know you are extraordinary. You were first person - the only person - I’d said my name to in 28 years. I’ve sacrificed myself for you, and I would do it again.” He knew that this body was a product of his willingness to give everything to her. Why couldn’t she just accept that maybe someone saw all that in her? “But, I swear, I’m not leaving you. Even if you decide you don’t want me, I’m not going anywhere.” His forehead rested against hers as heat swarmed through his senses, desire and emotion all mixed together. “Not because I _have_ to. But, because I _want_ to.” 

 “August...” Emma whispered, her eyes fluttering closed as she was probably swept over with the same heat and lust he was. “I want to trust you...”

 “Then just do it.”

 “But... you don’t know what you’re asking...”

 He slid his arm tighter around her waist, holding her so close he could barely breathe. “ I’m right here, Emma. That’s never changing.”

 The dam broke.

 Emma’s lips met August’s desperately, a kiss unlike any of the others he’d felt. In the alleyway, he’d been possessive, angry, claiming his territory. At the well, she’d been a tease, and his kiss had been to assert himself, to have her make good on all those promises of hers. This wasn’t anything like that. _She_ was kissing _him_ like she was a woman lost in the desert, and he was water from an oasis. He wasn’t the only desperate one now. In one moment, she’d given over to him all of those trust issues, everything that he knew they would have to spend months, hell, years still working out. But, in that _one_ moment, she’d given into him.

 Emma’s hands wandered to his black shirt, tugging it up enough that as he kissed her, he felt her slender fingers running all over his ribs and abdominal muscles. He huffed against her lips as he felt the contact channel right between his legs, lust stirring in his groin so quickly he was surprised he wasn’t in pain. He reached for her shirt as well, wanting to have the same kind of power over her, trying to keep control in what was virtually an uncontrollable scenario. He’d spent hours and hours thinking of all the things he wanted to do to Emma, if he’d ever had her like this again, and all of them were trying to get attention in that particular moment.

 He had intended to take his time with her, to really make sure she never thought of anyone ever again, to claim what he’d wanted for so long now. But, now that he had her, he couldn’t seem to grab hold of anything specific, he just wanted everything about her all at once. His fingers deftly unbuttoned her jeans, then slid back up under her shirt. He needed her close, needed to feel her in every way he could possibly think of.

 He needed air again. August pulled back, running his lips down her jaw, to her neck. He felt her hands pull his shirt higher and stood back to rip the damn thing off himself. Emma tried to move forward, but he was determined to make sure she gave him control of the situation. Hands returning to her waist, grabbing for the hem of her shirt, he used his body to press her back against the door and kiss her again before pulling her shirt off in one swift move.

 Arms wrapped around her, tugging her so close that he was sure she could feel the painful bulge in his jeans and the pounding in his chest, August’s mouth found her pulse in her neck, determined to replace all those bruises and hickeys that had faded. It was impossible to focus on anything but the fantasy he was getting to live out. He wasn’t drunk, they weren’t fighting, he just _had_ her.

 She made the mistake of uttering his name in a breathy, husky moan, her hips rocking against his. A muffled groan escaped him. He couldn’t handle letting her hips distract him like that again. Strong hands reached down, gripping her thighs and pulling her legs around his waist. A quick check to make sure he had a firm hold on her, an arm around her waist, hand splayed on her back, and he turned them, striding back towards his bed easily. With one easy, fluid pinch of his fingers, he unhooked her bra and tugged that off of her while he still had her in his arms. Emma helped him get that off of her, only for her lips to set upon his shoulder, her mouth working to leave a significant bruise. August groaned and set her down on the bed. He kissed her as he forced her onto her back so she couldn’t keep those hands wandering. He had too many plans for her, he was trying to build up an itinerary in his head before she completely unraveled him.

 And then those hands went for his belt buckle so quickly he almost lost it right there. Laughing throatily, his voice filled with lust, his hands darted to her wrists, grabbing them and pulling them away, pinning her on the bed. “Emma...” He warned, giving her a look that he hoped would say everything.

 Emma didn’t seem to be catching on, and her look of confusion told him volumes. “I thought you wanted this.”

 “I do...” He groaned, leaning close, nuzzling her, his lips brushing against hers. “But you have to _trust_ me. I need to know you trust me.”

 Emma groaned softly. “If I just say I do, that’s not enough?” August couldn’t respond, her hips had rocked up against his again.

“Emma, your hips are making it difficult for me to focus...” August reached down, releasing one of her wrists so he could grab her hip and still the rocking.

 “Okay, then stop focusing. Table it for now.” In a swift move that he was _not_ expecting, August was suddenly on his back with a lapful of blonde. He was supposed to be the one pinning her on the bed, not the other way around... Those hands had gone for his belt buckle again, this time undoing it and stripping his belt off with ease. Emma tossed it aside and August heard it clank onto the wooden floor right beside the bed, but he was too busy watching her with fascination and some trepidation. He didn’t know what she was doing, what she had planned, but he was still wondering if she would back away.

 As she unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped them, tugging them off of his hips, August tried to collect his thoughts even as all of the blood had flowed right to where that minx had her fingers brushing against the fabric of his boxers. “Emma.... what’re you - “ And there went his boxers, too.

 “Shut up, August.” Emma breathed as she crawled up between his legs, her fingers sliding along his inner thighs before brushing against his length in just the right teasing way to elicit a groan. She leaned forward, and his hips rolled in anticipation of what her breath against his stomach might mean. “You’re talking too much.”

 August was inclined to agree for the moment.

 He wasn’t entirely sure why he hadn’t actually expected it, but the moment her fingers wrapped around his length, he shivered from the sensation, dropping his head back onto the bed. At first, the movement of her fingers, the gentle teasing, he thought that was going to kill him, but then suddenly he felt the wet, warm, velvet sensation of her tongue and all rational thought went out the window. Propping himself up with one elbow, August’s eyes locked right onto Emma’s mouth as she teased and tasted him, taking her sweet time doing so. Torture. She was torturing him. He couldn’t think far ahead enough anymore to do anything more than groan, forcing his hips still as her tongue seemed to find every single point along his very hard cock that was sure to send him right to the edge.

 Her mouth wrapped around him and took him in, drawing an honestly surprised and tortured moan from August as he watched her still. Emma’s eyes finally met his, and the jolt of sensation he got from that made his hips thrust all on their own. But, she took it in stride, not much for patience, strangely enough. Maybe they were both too impatient at this point. They’d spent all this time circling each other, never talking about it, and then suddenly everything come to a head in the last two weeks and now... August lost his train of thought as Emma’s mouth took him even deeper, then pulled back in a rhythm he could only describe as heart-pounding. His heart felt like it was going to thud right out of his chest, her mouth was drawing him to an orgasm so quickly he could barely breathe.

 August’s hand reached down, tangling his fingers in her hair and tugging her head back up off of him. “E-Emma...” His voice shook, and he’d given away how close he’d been. But, he managed to wrench that delicious, tempting, wholly devious mouth of hers away from his throbbing cock that was begging for more of it. “You’re evil.” He panted, sitting up and pulling her up on top of him, kissing her as his hands roamed all over, grabbing her jeans and tugging them down off of her hips. If those damn boots of hers needed to come off again, he was probably going to rip them apart.

 Rolling them so he was back on top, August’s hand slid down her leg until he touched the leather of her boot. Oh, thank god. _Not_ the laced boots. Capturing her mouth with his, he made short work of her boots and socks, then went back to her jeans so he could finish stripping her bare.

 He stood so he could survey the disheveled woman in his bed, but he paused as his foot brushed against his belt on the ground. It reminded him, through the haze of lust, what the real issue was here, that she’d only distracted him. Smiling with a devilish glint in his eye, August scooped up the belt and covered Emma’s body with his again, kissing her. This time, a plan in mind to keep those hands of hers in check, he found her wrists and pulled them over her head, using his belt to bind her wrists together. Not at all tight, easy enough that she could slip them like a pro.

 “August, what the fuck are you - “ Emma didn’t sound angry. She sounded worried, and that was exactly what he had been expecting. Good, at least _some_ things he could still predict.

 “I want you to trust me, Emma.” He kept one hand on the belt, his other hand moving to run through her fingers while he forced his whole body to remain still while he tried to put everything into the right words for her. “You could slip those at any time. But, the point is... can you trust me?”

 “To do what?” She hissed, her eyes searching his face for the answer.

 “To prove you’re the only thing I need.” To prove _everything._ He couldn’t put it in words. He’d tried, that was the closest he could get to. _To not hurt you..._ His gaze said the rest.

 An almost imperceptible nod from Emma stripped the last of the hesitation away. August’s lips crashed against hers again as his hands slid down her body, caressing all her curves. He moved his attention down to her jaw, leaving the harsh, barest scratching of his beard as he kissed lower. As he kept shifting lower, his hands came back up from her hips to cup her breasts, massaging them slowly as he tried to commit the moment to memory. If it never happened again, he would at least have all of this.

 August’s mouth found one of her pert nipples and took hold, his tongue running over the sensitive nub while his other hand never stopped exploring the other breast. His fingers played with her other nipple as he kept his mouth working with the other one. Emma’s reaction was better than he could have hoped. Her back arched against him, pressing her chest closer to him, even as her arms were left over her head. He could hear the creaking of leather as she struggled against them, but since he knew she could slip them with ease, it encouraged him to know that she was enjoying the game of not being able to do anything. The exercise in trust was effective.

 Finally moving on, he trailed more kisses and scrapes of his teeth down her stomach, glancing up occasionally to see how she was doing. Her chest heaved, cheeks flushed, a wholly new look of appreciation on her face. This was nothing like the alley, which was all grime, booze and lust mixed with new experiences and crossing of lines. And this wasn’t like the well; the pleas to stay, trying to convince him to remain there just for her. This was vulnerable, new. This was her attempt to trust him.

 August pulled her panties down, taking his time as he did so. He could smell her, could tell just how ready she was as he left the touch of his lips against the skin along her hips, then down further. He’d enjoyed every second of tasting her last time, and he planned on doing so again. This time, she was at his mercy on the bed, though, comfortable and squirming.

 Once he got her panties off of one leg, he lifted her leg until it was over his shoulder and situated easily. August took a long moment to trail kisses back up the inside of her thigh, savoring the sounds she made until he reached her core. His tongue ran in one long stroke up along her already moist lips, then again. He took his time, tasting her and not quite letting his tongue go where they both knew it needed to.

 Emma’s hips rolled against him as she begged for more attention. Her noises of small gasps in anticipation turned into honest pleas to stop teasing her, and August smiled against her. He snaked a hand between her legs and spread her lips more for him, letting his tongue find the sensitive nub that was begging for attention. His tongue moved in quick, tantalizing flicks before his lips closed around her clit and her hips bucked substantially. Emma’s moans rose in intensity, he could tell she was going crazy, growing closer to the edge. Just like last time, as if to remind her exactly what she’d get any time she let herself trust him, he slipped his fingers deep into her, curling his finger until he found what he was looking for, stroking it as she tightened around him.

 A broken moan reached his ears as Emma came around his fingers, hips rolling, back arched, hands still fighting at the belt as if she’d forgotten what it was there for. He pulled back, trailing kisses as he savored her taste in his mouth. Oh, he wanted to do that again. And again. Every day for the rest of his life, if possible.

 August crawled back up on top of her, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her breathless all over again. He wanted to take her every way possible, but he also didn’t have the patience to do so now. Right now, he needed her as close as he could possibly get her, skin touching skin so close they couldn’t breathe.

 August’s hips lined up against hers again, even better than before. He thrust into her in one solid stroke, deep into her, her tight muscles clenching around him so perfectly that he shuddered, his eyes rolling back as he let them flutter closed. He savored the sensation, punctuated by Emma’s attempts to kiss him. Her arms looped around his neck, the belt digging into his back right between the shoulderblades in a way that heightened every sensation.

 His hips moved of their own accord, thrusting into her again with strong, desperate movements that made them both groan and cry out. He kissed her again, swallowing her moans with his. The belt dug deeper, her legs wrapped around his waist, the two of them locked in an embrace as he tried to prove to her with every movement, every kiss, every touch, that she could trust him. That he was done lying, he was done running, he was done failing her.

 August shifted, sitting up and holding her in his lap as he thrust up into her, kissing her, hand tangled in her hair as his other hand splayed across her back, raking his nails and leaving bruises on her skin as he clutched tightly to her. Blonde hair strewn everywhere, her fingers running through his own dark hair, August just let himself give in. He wanted more, he wanted everything, and he let himself go.

 When Emma came around him again, August actually stilled his hips before he lost total control, groaning and reaching up to pull the belt free in one easy motion. The belt came free, he tossed it away, barely seeing the buckle glint before he felt Emma’s nails rake down his back and her hands moved to his jaw, pulling him close for another kiss.

 August rolled them and held her close, dropping onto his back on the bed. Emma shifted with ease, her lips never missing a kiss as her hips rocked roughly, bent over him. After a moment, she pulled back, sitting up and riding him in earnest, her hands seeking out his. Sweat and musk filled the air as he tangled his fingers with hers where she placed his hands on her hips. He thrust in time with the rhythm she set, watching her arch back, beautiful, curvaceous and utterly intoxicating.

 The drug that she was had taken its toll on him. He was forever ruined, he’d never see another woman without thinking of her first, locked in passion, a moan parting her lips as the last of the grey light outside began to fade.

 Emma clenched around him again as his thumb snuck to her clit, unable to stop himself from needing to see that expression all over again. It didn’t take long. Another long, ragged moan escaped her lips as she came around him one last time and August was done for.

 A few thrusts later and August suddenly pulled Emma closer, kissing her once more as he lost control. His hips jerked and he finally came, every cord of muscle in his body unravelling as he groaned into her mouth, letting everything go.

 She was perfect. He was addicted.

 Hours later, after he’d proven to her every other way he could think of how much he loved her, she’d fallen asleep in his arms, curled up like she didn’t have a worry in the world.

 As the night fell and August glanced out the window, able to see just a hint of the stars, he pulled Emma closer, holding her tight.

  In the end, they both knew that there was a chance things would go badly. But, he didn’t care. Just this once... he was going to keep his promise. He would never leave her.

 It didn’t matter how hard it was this time.... that was the one promise he would keep. 

 She was the only drug. August never be able to survive the world without Emma.


End file.
